The Way of Jayne, Part 8
Saturday, May 13, 2006

NC-17, Jayne and Maeve, his first lover, the morning after first-sex. This ain't for the kiddies, nor for those who think god didn't make words for folks like me to use describing what goes where. No fair saying you were not warned, my darlings. Feedback? HELL, yeah. Give it to me, Baby. You don't even have to leave your name. I'll take you anonymously, and gladly. Thanks for reading.


This here fic is mostly porn without plot, although it had to be done this way, seein' as how Jayne only had his first sex the night before this chapter begins. I dare any of you to say different.

Browncoats: If you ain't looking to have your body exude a little moisture while reading, do NOT get into this chapter, dong ma? Go find some nice Disney G-rated stuff. There's plenty of it in the Blue Sun Room that'll please you much more mildly while saving your corneas from the searing I offer you here. *kiss*

Want to read the back-story? Easy-peasy. Just click on the yellow "ItsaWash" above and scroll down to the lower right to see everything I've got (*she said, grinning widely.*)

The Way of Jayne, Part 8

He slept until the sun creeping into the room beneath the wooden shutters woke him.

Jayne stretched and yawned, creaked one eye open the smallest wedge at the irritant of light threading through the thin skin of his eyelid. Looking toward the window over the charmingly-disheveled firey tresses of his bedmate, he caught the sun for what it was, then looked back down at the soft-haired woman in his arms. "Maeve," he breathed out, smiling. Curled the arm beneath her shoulders up and over so his hand could cup her smooth upper arm. Had a sudden need to wake her, look into her eyes this close-up with daylight bathing her, clarifying the vision of her into blessed reality.

She might have heard her name on his lips or it might have been his pulling her close that tugged Maeve's mind to rouse, to meet him awake in her bed. She'd been having the most satisfying dream... No, strike that, she'd been re-living the thrust and flow of the night they'd just spent together so vividly it qualified as more, indeed, better than, a mere dream.

Her eyes flashed open, all sleep gone, saw both her lover and the sunlight shining on her bed. "Hello Handsome," she smiled the words at him, reaching with one hand to pull herself as close to his body as she could without seeking his manhood back inside her as he'd been a few short hours before. His hand on her shoulder clenched almost painfully tight as her bare skin and his softly collided along every spare inch, her legs twining with his, waistlines sliding up against one another. Jayne's chin rested just atop her red head as the woman's touseled hair licked his neck and she kissed him along his collarbone.

"Mmmmm," she gained a pleasured utterance from the man as she went on tasting his skin. His interest in the path of her mouth grew as she slid her face down the crisp hair of his chest to his flat belly. His breathing stopped dead when her face hovered lower, her body nestled between his knees, inches above his hard, uncontrollably flexing manhood. The woman's hot breath moved his root as if the thing were an oddly thick reed and she, the daughter of Aeolus, god of wind. Maeve smiled at her prize, pursed her lips and blew a hot scirocco onto his purpling skin, then tucked her chin down to lick Jayne from the base of his cock all the way to where the sloping crown began, stopping at the ridge to trace it around from start to finish. Not only Jayne's shaft, but his hips took to thrusting up to meet her, the teasing of her tongue not enough, not nearly enough; not when his organ wanted engulfing by her mouth, her hands, her wet hot womanhood, he didn't much care which took him inside. Only make it soon, prithee.

The woman's tongue working on his velvety skin wasn't the only way sign of what her lover wanted, their connection, mouth to shaft caused her to read his mind with a searing urgency, neurons firing inside her brain at the realization of how far Jayne was being taken on the path to culmination. Leaning up away from his rearing hips, his flexing pointing wanting maleness, she raised her head to smile at him, the shook her head before she plunged her mouth down onto him, lips pursed, taking his manhood all the way to the root, tip of it at the back of her throat and beyond. Jayne half sat up, supported his weight behind him on shaking locked elbows and arms.

"Yesu, Maeve, gods of fornicatin' monkeys be damned all to hell." Ignoring his hoarsely shouted obsenities for the preferable firing lights of his thoughts as she gave him oral pleasure, the woman slid her mouth up his length, tongue swirling along the sides, lips sealed tight around him, plunged back down half-way and then returned from the trip to suck hard on the tip of him, her tongue tip delving along the small hyphen of a weeping slit.

Jayne felt like his entire body turn into a sweet peppermint stick. His lover's mouth was everything he'd ever wanted in his life and he was gorram lucky to be in the here and now with the pull and flow of her wetness taking him deep like this, sucking him throatily, tongue laving him as if he could be consumed like candy. She was silent on his body, her head working in a rhythm slated to pull moisture from him quicker than either of them was bound to want. But he wasn't of a mind to stop or even slow her progress. And she was bent on keeping what she had in her mouth's grasp, and on taking whatever he planned on giving deep inside her throat.

It only took her soft hand sliding down between his thighs beneath his organ to cup his balls, testing their weight in one palm, fingers stroking, seeking to feel the wrinkle and clutch of his scrotum's skin that heralded the rush of semen ratcheting up and out along the length of him. She'd already tasted the merest drop of his pre-cum this morning, her hand at his balls told her before the thrust and bulging of his cock announced that he was gonna cum, and cum soon.

"Gods, Maeve, I'm gonna..." as if his voice had no choice but to confirm what they already knew, and his frame locked, hips shoved up to her, his bottom completely risen off the bed, hips bucking to her mouth once, twice, body arched spewed deep into her long white swallowing throat. He fell back to the bed, her mouth refusing to leave him even as the final spurt of pale milky fluid fed down the back of her mouth. She nursed on him again at that, taking the last of him before sliding her lips from his nethers, her hand giving his sack a light friendly squeeze as if to say he'd done well by her, and by him.

Maeve crawled up Jayne's muscled body until she sat his hips like a rider on a well-made saddle, her thighs spread wide, nethers wet and swollen with want, need rampant inside her, desire hot for the thrusting and flowing of him up inside her. He was still hard, diamond-cutter hard depite the urgency of her sucking him to completion just now. He growled low in his throat, big hands taking the woman's hips hard, squeezing into her soft flesh to lift her high and bring her straight down slow, steady as the tip of him squeezed into her gorgeously sumptuous opening.

The crown entered Maeve's body as she tossed back her head, curls of firey hair spreading low on her back, peeling down sinuously along her skin like the threads of pleasure Jayne Cobb was sending scudding out from the center where he was taking up residence. She took what he gave her inch-by-inch, her body positioned high on her knees above the young man, straining to wait this out, take him in slow and good. There was no need to hurry here, neither of them wanted anything but for this to last, this here 'drawing things out' method of love-making.

Jayne smiled beneath his educated lover, took his voice down low and almost inaudible, "Sweetheart, you're a gorram tease, you know that, dontcha?", as he bit out the last word on a wicked baritone chuckle that Maeve felt between her thighs along the tuning fork of his shaft. She let her smiling words join his quiet laughter, "Gods, Jayne, it's pleasure and pain riding down slow-like on you, memory fresh from last night, knowing how good you felt deep inside me. It's all I can do to take this by degrees right now..."

The lost part of the "now" as Jayne's hands slid down to cup her bottom, his muscled forearms pulling down on her, taking her to slam down hard full on his shaft. Maeve's pale soft hands flew to land on his chest for support as stars burst behind her lids, her passage fluttering, clamping along his length filling her deep hard solid full long. Merged as closely as two could be, her still wanting his mouth on hers, and he suited action to impulse by sliding his hands up her back then around to her arms, to her hands curled in his coffee-brown chest hair, drawing her upper body further onto his chest, his mouth seeking her in a hot kiss full of desire reborn.

She cried a little noise of small hurt mixed with great pleasure into his mouth as he thrust up into her with both tongue and shaft inside the former and the latter sets of her lips. He was wide and long, the part of him that slammed up into her when his hips rose off the bed, and he used it to take her lower body with him, tilting inside her, going hard to tilt like a lance at the mouth of her womb. She shifted enough to ease his angle along her canal, moaning in pleasure, the pain forgotten in the cleave and slide of him. Her mouth took him, worshipped at the grail of his own, swallowing the breath of him along with his sounds of amped-up pleasure that mingled with her own.

Maeve's soft breasts pillowed, flattened into Jayne's muscled chest as they kissed for what seemed like forever, no space between their upper bodies as the space at their joined-up hips grew apart. She pulled almost off the part of him that linked them, never willing to give up the crown lodged inside. She squeezed muscles well-used last night, rippling along him as her channel took him back in, the inches between their lower torsos closing until they were locked tight, him balls-deep inside her.


Maeve woke from a nap, a rest that was badly-needed after she and Jayne had tangled up the sheets with their bodies the morning after she took his virginity. She stretched her arms far above her head at the luxurious feel of a body well-loved, well-used. At the memory of who was responsible for the use and using, she turned to face the other side of the bed, found it empty. Rolling into Jayne's place she took his pillow, smelled the rain-washed scent of him and felt immediately deluged by capture-sharp images of what they'd done together, where she'd led him. SHE'D led HIM? Hell, she'd found out pretty quickly that he was fully capable of navigating the way.

Their first time, his awkwardly asking her to put him inside her, she shivered at the living vision of that, felt it between her thighs all over again in a quivering rush. Gods, he'd done it hard and deep and slow and so gorram good. She knew somehow she'd likely not see his equal, skilled or unskilled. He knew his way around what he wanted for himself and instinctively knew the same about her.

She rose from her bed, donning a lavendar wrapper, tying the cord at her waist, Jayne's name coming from her throat carried on the wings of a smile, lifted, lilting, a questioning note. "Are you there, Honey?" She padded barefoot toward the kitchen. On the counter she found a note carefully penned in a young man's almost-accurately spelled hand: "Had to go to werk. Thank you for the night, I want to see you agin. --Jayne."

The smile on her face never dimmed as she tucked the scrap of paper under a tin of tea on the counter. "I want to see you again, Mr. Cobb, and gods grant it be soon."


Young Mr. Cobb and Wood were hard at work by the time Maeve was reading his note. Wood had left off ribbing his employee about the cathouse gossip from the night before. Jayne hadn't answered any of the teasing, he'd merely turned his emotional collar up to the storm of jibes and cackling laughter, waiting for a calm front to move in. The maneuver worked, as his boss eventually settled down without his target giving him any encouragement. If he had known how close Jayne was to unholstering Wood's own gun and ending him, he'd have sought cover. As it was, Jayne stoically endured and Wood was able to keep breathing, at least for another day.

They worked on companionably, long past nightfall, roping steer that had wandered off from their lawful owners. That this happy coincidence occurred through some carefully cut stretches of cyclone fence didn't make them no nevermind. Twenty-two healthy head of steak and ribs plodded in bunches between the outlaws' horses, bound for Inga's homeplace and a nestled-away cave home and aided by Jayne's doubled-up lariat thwapping their hides as he chuckled at the sound of it.

The young employee roped off the newcomers from a fair-large crowd of branded, bathed and be-mooing cattle, ready to head out 'come morning for sale to a less-than-honest rancher three towns north of them. Chores done, he went to take a bath, smelling of his first night (and mornin') of passion mixed with sweat from steer and man.


He was coming. She'd felt herself on his mind off and on through the day, felt the weariness on him mated with desire for more such activites as had wearied him the night before. She wanted him, possibly more desperately than he had a hankering for time with her. Maeve sent her thoughts toward Jayne, encouraged his yearning by tweaking his mind's rambling with amendments born of her own. She gave him her hands as he bathed, tracing the path of the soap between his legs, nudging his knees apart with a far-flung mental hand, causing Jayne to "Unnnnnh," as he hurried his ablutions. She ran her fingers lightly over his hip in farewell, knowing his thoughts, that he'd be making time for them soon.

Clean from his ruffled oak-brown hair to his big calloused feet, clad in his second best ranch-hand pants and shirt, he nodded his head to Wood and muttered that he'd see him early the next morning. Wood waved him on, deep into a keg of ale he'd won courtesy of some hard-tradin' last week.

Maeve checked her store of herbs, dusted shelves, did a quick inventory of medicinal supplies, anything to keep her mind to herself, to holding her thoughts back from following Jayne and possibly slowing him down on his way back to her.

Chores done, she dressed in a brown cowhide riding skirt slit up the middle and a sky blue long-sleeved blouse, left her hair long in back, a deep blue ribbon serving as headband. Looking like a Summer's day with her hair shining bright as sunset, she gathered a warm woolen blanket to put 'round her shoulders for the horseback ride ahead. She walked from her home carrying a leather satchel that contained buttered bread, turkey, firm sliced tomato, avocado and fragrant smoked cheese and a baker's dozen of fresh-made chocolate chip cookies. "Something cool, wet and sweet'll be called for after his long working day," she said aloud, walking outside to a small storage shed. In the shed's cool interior on a shelf near the door were several large flasks of sweet peach-flavored beer and some soft cotton napkins that she tucked inside the bag of food, satisfied at last with the quality of the meal.

Jayne's lover put her foot in the stirrup and slid one long shapely leg over the saddle to ride astride; she hung the leather bag of picnic goodies on the saddlehorn. Tugging the reins she set the palomino's head toward where her mental image of Jayne led.

He smiled as he rode through a thickish forest toward Maeve's house, mind wandering ahead toward the things they could and would do. "Woman's in me deep," he muttered in a rumbly baritone, "It's a caution how much she means to me, gorramit, keeps my nethers hard 24-7 just thinkin' on her."

The horse nickered softly and raised its head at the tone in his rider's voice, nostrils flaring at the scent of someone familiar ahead. Jayne peered into the starlit darkness of the trees, ears alert for sounds of danger. What he heard, though, was a hint of soft singing not too far off.

"Maeve!," he hollered, urging his heels into the horse's sides.

The wide ribbons of moonlight through the trees lit his way as Jayne's horse carried him toward the lilting melody ahead. Maeve laughed gaily and calmly reined in her own horse, awaiting her young knight's arrival, a hand to her hair, adjusting the ribbon, tugging a long silken lock over one shoulder. Her lover's mount skidded to a halt and Jayne hauled himself over the side, running the two steps to reach her before she could dismount.

She slid one leg over and, putting her hands on his broad shoulders, inched forward into him, his hands on her waist lifting her, then drawing her in. Holding her high for a few seconds, utter seriousness on his handsome face, laughter in her eyes looking down into his, he allowed her body to travel down his slowly until her head was at his shoulder level. Cupping her buttocks in his hands through her skirt, Jayne lifted her once again and plunged his mouth to her in a kiss, abruptly ending her surprised, pleased squeak of pleasure.

When they both came up for air, he growled, "Gorramit all to hell, Woman, I've about gone crazy with wantin' ya." He buried his face against her neck, biting where her shoulder and throat met. Maeve leaned her head onto his shoulder as his teeth took her, his tongue laving along at the small hurt, soothing and pleasuring her till her nethers' moistening made her push her wide hips into his own. Jayne's kneaded the flesh of her rump before one made its way through the front slit of her skirt, trailing along her soft white thigh till he reached the apex of her body to find...

...soft furled hair unadorned by any trace of material.

"Wuh de ma! What you got for me down there?," he dropped to his knees before her, spread both sides of the skirt like wings with his hands and pulled her thighs forward to focus full moonlight on her mons. As he went to touch her with hesitant fingers, Maeve's hand collected the side of the skirt that had partially obscured his view. She tucked it in back so as to be out of the way, secured inside the edge of her waistband.

Jayne's fingers touched only the feathery hair at the top of her slit, ruffling it maddeningly, his palm gliding along the full surface of her small triangular carpet's offering. She threw her head back in want, shivering, glad of the horse at her back's kindess in supporting her. Feeling the woman shiver for his touch, Jayne tilted his own head back to look into her face as his index finger unbent and slid home to her clit, crooking downward the barest milimeter, fingernail scraping barely to the right of her body's most sensitive spot. She hissed and put her hand in his hair, tugging hard, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentrated lust for what the young man was doing to her with pleasured hands.

For his part, Jayne swallowed hard, shifted on his knees, his shaft rampant, rearing and tearing in his pants, tightened and pulling as they were as he crouched before his goddess. Drawing his finger down slowly, he used his other hand to part her lips wide, laying her bare, open before the chill night around them. As his finger tracked slowly downward, his face leaned in, mouth open, tongue-tip extended to taste the nectar she couldn't contain.

He found her swollen, her lower lips puffy, soft as down, warm and wet for him, hot with need for him. Pressing his tongue flat, he laid it along her softness, taking her body's moisture, relishing the flavor of Woman in urgent need of Man. Licking from her opening toward her apex and the hard small stiffness there, he gathered her, swallowed thick wetness deep, murmuring a satisfied sound that she felt in electric vibration all along her nerve endings.

Maeve flinched, jerked in his hands when his teeth took her, carefully scraped her, tongue and lips soothing afterward with a warm kiss. She went from zero to one-eighty, body amping up with desperate want for more of what he was driving her to. Reaching behind her, she fumbled for the leather carrying bag and flicked the folded blanket open to the side of where they were united. Letting it fall to the ground more or less open flat, she took her lover's head between her soft hands and crooned love words. "Jayne, tah mah duh, bao bei-mine, yes. Ohhhh, yes," he heard it as her voice broke in a cry.

He left off teasing her clit to trace his tongue and wides lips down her own till he reached her opening, his fingers spreading her wider still. His tongue slid out of his mouth and into her, face slammed hard into her as he drove inside as deeply as he could go. He felt her, tasted her cum inside his mouth as it flowed hot and thick to him. She screamed as she came, harsh sound echoing through the dark trees, slumping down, bent at the waist, her full soft bosum resting on the crown of his head, one hard nipple dragging along his temple as she struggled to breathe.

Jayne slowly pulled back after taking his tongue hard and deep into her slit clearing last vestiges of moisture, enjoying quivers, pulses of her against his face. He noted the blanket spread on the ground, nudged her toward it, "Lay down for me, Maeve, I wanna let somethin' out of jail here," he made sure she was capable of easing down to the blanket before his hands tended to the prison break.

On hands and knees, he crawled onto the blanket beside her. He made short work of skinning out of pants, no drawers underneath, his eyes watching her undo the fastening at her skirt. The redhead raised her butt, curled in toward her legs and shucked the garment, folded it neatly and laid to the side out of the way. Just as she gave it a final pat, her man reached her, sat between her legs with his own legs bent at the knees then drawing his thighs up over her hips, calves tucked against her back. He applied large clumsy fingers to the task of freeing her blue blouse's buttons from their loops.

Jayne kissed every few inches of pale freckled dove soft skin as he went, inhaled the scent of lavendar on her, used flattened palms and fingers to spread the pretty blouse out like wings, then tugged it down her upper arms. His hands encouraged the garment to on her forearms, pinioning her, letting him entrap her arms behind. Maeve, a willing prisoner, followed his head as it turned; she watched his progress at the mild binding, capturing his lips in her own for a long deep kiss that temporarily distracted him from his task.

Their mouths pressed hard, slanting faces battling, tangling together in hot lust in the cool night air. Taking a big hand behind her middle back between her tied arms, Jane urged her to lay on her side as they continued their lips' onslaught, passion rising like the nightbird they surprised into hurried flight at Maeve's muffled cries of wanting.

His mouth was hotly busy on hers, his hands on her body mapping her true, thoroughly, tracing his needs all over her skin anywhere within reach of long calloused fingers. Maeve's own hands struggled a little, fair-itching to touch him, to give him back some of what she was getting though she was stymied in the attempt by the shirt that held her. She ripped her mouth from his, gasped out, "Gorramit, Jayne! I want...." He laughed low, gravel in a tin bucket, and slid his fingers inside the top of her nethers, dead center of her soft curls.

"Think I know what you want, Sweetheart," he whispered, his fingers delving along her, spreading her to his hand, side of his fingers sawing lightly, fingertips reaching her hole below, sliding inside the merest inch. Maeve's hands, arms suddenly wrenched themselves free of the blouse, no careful folding of it anywhere in her mind, and took ungentle hold of his shaft. He flexed, hips jerking to her and she rushed him to his back, straddled him facing away, her hands gripping his ankles on the blanket.

Jayne's fingers never left off playing with her moistness, his long hand a'scumble on her soft heat, blurring the fluid, creating something different on the canvas of her with each caress, her folds swelling, changing in his grasp. He made good use of the other hand, took his cock and positioned it at the brink as her bottom raised up the eight inches he'd need to sheathe himself inside. Feeling the velvet heat of his crown at her, Maeve pushed down onto him, settling his spear inside her tightness with no thought of delaying satisfaction.

She nearly came, gods, she'd never before been in such a hurry to cum. She regained control of her body's careening toward selfish satisfaction only gradually, wrung the ability out of her deepest recesses by sheer force of will. Pictured her cabin, seeing herself prepping it for a much-needed painting. And canning! Yeah, there was canning of Autumn vegetables to be done for the coming winter. She piled all these necessities into her Reader's brain, rifling through the steps to be taken one-by-one until at last she sighed, was able to shift atop Jayne and smile down at him, at peace and ready to give as well as receive now.

"Jayne, it ain't a secret that I'm a woman used to loving, wanting what a man can give a woman. I ain't a fresh broken mare, and you and me both know it.," she flexed her sheath around him, hugging him at their connection by way of apology that she couldn't give him the virginity she'd willlingly lost years ago. For Jayne's part, he locked his gaze on her face in the moonlight, reading her expression, knowing that this was important, this talking she was doing, could tell by the solemness in her voice. Knew even more easily, though, that it was gonna be tough to get his brain off the place they were connected, 'specially since her cunny was holding him all tight-like and flexin' fit to wring another rush of cum from him.

He drew back from her a mite, his hips pulling back, manhood easing out slow by an inch or more. She continued what she was saying, her body stilling around his, around the hard part of him still sheathed inside.

"You're something new, the like of which I ain't ever seen, ain't never thought to have, nor figured on wanting this bad. You're in me so deep, Jayne, that I can't seem to suss out where you end and I begin anymore."

At her words, he thrust back into her quickly, afeared that she was complaining about his partial withdrawal, but at her smile, her laugh, he realized suddenly that he'd missed the point.

"Ah, you want me, Maeve. Want me like I want you, you're sayin'," this said as he slid back out of her as far as her seat atop his john thomas allowed, then arched his hips up into her again, balls deep. She lowered her torso onto his, crawled up him while keeping them still connected at the nethers. She breathed into his mouth at almost the same instant that she took him in a kiss, "I want you, Jayne. God help me, I much more than want you."

He sat up with her wrapped tight in arms made strong from good hard work, cupped his hands around her bottom, rose to his knees and strode with her lips still taken by his, her lower lips still taking, holding him in as she wrapped her legs around him, crossed her ankles behind his butt. He rose to his feet, walked with her clinging to him like a blanket, kissed hell outta her as he backed her softness up against a moss-covered tree trunk that was double their combined width.

His big hands took her waist, his forehead lowered to her chest as he bent himself to the task of enshrining of himself inside her heat, wanting to settle inside her for the winter, never wanting to leave his first woman, never wanting any of this to end. He didn't, hell he couldn't last long this time. Tried to pace himself, draw it out, but it was too good, too hot, the cries she gave him were too poignant, spoke too well of her own cumming being close, so close and it took him headlong then.

He called to her loud and long, her name screamed unbarriered as he threw back his head and gave the single drawn out syllable of her name to the moon, "MAAAEEEVE...!" tore from his throat as hot semen shot deep inside her, pierced her core, painted her with his seed. Maeve came at the feel of his spasms, his thrusting shooting hard liquid heat welling up into her. She shattered all around him, reduced to shards of wet woman where their bodies united.

They breathed in tandem, foreheads pressed together, spent, sweat-shot bodies heaving, taking succor in the nature of their combined release. Maeve eased her legs from around him, slid them down along the backs of his thighs then down the sides of his muscled calves and steadied herself on the forest floor when her toes and heels felt terra firma.

When one of them could risk walking, it was Jayne, who scooped her up, one arm around her shoulders, other beneath her knees. He carried her back to the picnic blanket, settled her on it and wiped his sweat purled brow on a forearm. "Hey, Maeve. How was your day?"

She laughed and leaned in and kissed him, "Day was too long, Honey. But it got better sorta recently."

She crawled over to the saddlebag, took out the makings of their picnic supper, laid them out and made short work of preparing sustenance.

Jayne laid back on his side, ankles crossed casually at the end of long muscled legs and watched her breasts heave and shift, changing shape from pears to globes as she worked making a thick sandwich for each of them. He chewed on a fingernail as he tried with varied degrees of success to keep his shaft from rising, filling with need to have her again already.

Thick sliced wheat bread, rich with grains. Butter and hearty smoked cheese atop that. Thin slices of turkey piled up high, followed by red ripe tomato and emerald green avocado slices. She wrapped the back end of Jayne's sandwich in a soft napkin and handed it to him with both hands.

He nearly unhinged his jaw like a serpent, biting into the treat, pink viscous tomato-ey snot rivulets coming down his chin to pool unheeded on upper thigh. Maeve tucked into her own sandwich, then set it down long enough to uncork a flask of peach homebrew, crawling past her supper to tilt the mouth of the bottle to Jayne's mouth. He steadied the bottle with one hand, drinking deeply, brushed the fingers of his other hand along her full breast. She gave a lovely laugh at his preoccupation with sexuality even in the face of such hunger for nourishment as she read in him.

Her hand brushed the tomato seeds from his thigh, her other hand's fingertips curled into gentle talons which swept slowly along his burgeoning shaft, "Ahhh, Jayne, bao bai, eat now. Time enough for other forms of hunger satisfaction later, neh?" He grumbled an assent, his hands and mouth taking in the sandwich by way of large bites, the sweet beer quaffed deeply as he "mmmm'ed" his pleasure at the quality of the repast. "Oi shee daiyo!, Jayne said, giving a thumb's up. He leaned back and burped, wiping a large paw across his mouth with a, " 'Scuse me," as his chin dipped down on a second, louder burp.

"More room out here than there is in there, Honey," she smiled, remembering her dad's favorite saying each time his digestive system aerated, making room after a large-ish meal.

She pulled out a red-wrapped bundle, placed it on her sloping white thigh, unfolded the cloth and produced dessert. Jayne said the word on an exhale, "Cookies, by the gods. Crunchy or chewy?"

"Both-in-one, just the way you like 'em."

He smiled and reached into her lap to take three of the treasures, sniffed delicatedly at two before biting; then taking them into his wide mouth and masticating slowly with great relish. His eyes rolled back, then closed in ecstacy, an excellent imitation of the enjoyment a shiny-souled girl would one day give to eating strawberries, though neither of the two on the blanket could know that here, today.

Maeve sighed and watched him eat.

End, The Way of Jayne, Part 8

Want to hear some more? I've got such plans for these lovers, gonna take them on another ride or two, then bring Jayne's lovely life falling onto his head like a 3 story building in an earthquake. Maeve and Jayne are almost done, and our Boy's gonna head out to the Black where (years later) he'll have a rendezvous with a tight-pants clad captain and a cafe latte skinned amazonian first mate. Jayne's still got 2 or 3 chapters of traveling on his home planet 'afore I let him be, and some downright unsettling and dirt-nappin' things are gonna happen to Wood Harbinger before I end this series, but that's all coming soon. Feedback me, will ya? I need it almost as badly as I need RiverIsMyGoddess to bake me more of his chockie chip cookies. It's fahng-tzong fung-kwong duh jeh (a knot of self indulgent lunacy) inside me.

Yesu - Jesus

Gorram - god damn or gosh darn

Wuh de ma - Mother of god

Tah mah duh - f_ _ _ me blind

Bao bei - Darling

Oi shee daiyo - Delicious


Saturday, May 13, 2006 11:49 AM


Gee, thanks for the review, WHF.

Saturday, May 13, 2006 2:32 PM


Hey Wash good to see you back and to read more about the Way of Jayne. Great continuation from the last chapter. I want to see his boss get his though.

Of course we want more, or at least I do!

Saturday, May 13, 2006 2:37 PM


Hot! Hot! Hot! Fab as always Wash! Where you been? Hidin' in the black? Well, as long as you're writin' again, thats ok! Glad to see your return! D

Saturday, May 13, 2006 6:44 PM



What can I say except: JEZZUS WASHIE!

"He was coming. She'd felt herself on his mind off and on through the day, felt the weariness on him mated with desire for more such activites as had wearied him the night before. She wanted him, possibly more desperately than he had a hankering for time with her. Maeve sent her thoughts toward Jayne, encouraged his yearning by tweaking his mind's rambling with amendments born of her own. She gave him her hands as he bathed, tracing the path of the soap between his legs, nudging his knees apart with a far-flung mental hand, causing Jayne to "Unnnnnh," as he hurried his ablutions. She ran her fingers lightly over his hip in farewell, knowing his thoughts, that he'd be making time for them soon."

What a picture!...only YOU Washie, could possibly write that and create such an image in a reader's mind.

Very much looking forward to future installments.


Saturday, May 13, 2006 10:44 PM


I will read this tomorrow, but I am sure it is up to par with the others. May get me in the mood to write my Kaylee-River smut, or in the mood for other things.

Sunday, May 14, 2006 4:19 AM


Yup, Japanese, and good on ya for catching that, Anon! A guy at work used that particular adjective to describe some ham/cheese salad I brought in for folks to try, (he said it works best if you use the "ok" symbol of thumb and forefingertips touching) and I had him spell it out phonetically for my future fic use. I've noticed Joss using both Chinese and Japanese influences in costuming, food, etc., so figured oishi da yo wouldn't be amiss here.

Browncoats: An overwhelmingly intelligent, observant, smile-making bunch of folks, for the most part. Buddha knows I feel gorram lucky to know 'em and be part of their 'verse.

Sunday, May 14, 2006 11:33 AM


GUH! Seriously not capable of more than that right now. Keep writing, we want to see where this goes!

Sunday, May 14, 2006 10:46 PM


Uhm, wow. Jayne caught on quickly for a first timer <G>.


Monday, May 15, 2006 1:09 AM


Gods of fornicatin' monkeys woman.

And the sandwich, beer, and cookies? Nice touch.

As always, more is better. Plus, I think this may get me writing my new smut piece.

Sunday, June 11, 2006 8:08 PM


Washie Baby - "Hi....". Hmmmmm. Like your writing (blush) BUT...isn't J. Boy most likely to slap any "lady" on her bum & promptly forget her name (if he ever knew it to begin with, 'ceptin Vera?)...

After all, J. ain't the mushy squishy kind is he? Hope not!

If 'ya need hints on what RiverDancer REALLY thinks up for menfolk (NOT!) - let me know...(caugh caugh blush) - got some good ones! :)

'Ya got a 10 from me 'cause your storylines ARE unique. Keep writing baby, & put out that novel! :)

I'll shut up now, since I'm no writer, 'cept a few unpublished (world is safe for now) books... :)

Monday, June 12, 2006 3:14 AM


Heya RD! Thanks for reading! Readers are the best thing to me about writing.

I hear ya about the Jayne we know and love bein' a wham-bam-thank-ya-ma'am organism, but give me time to let him be young, in love and consequently wanting something more from his woman, before he learns to be what he is today. :0) This story here only begins with him being a warm loving mature teenager. By the time I'm done with him (within the next few chapters, actually) he'll be on his way to being hardened man (hand hard-lovin') man you and I know he is. Stay with me and see if I don't do my best to make that happen.

Monday, August 7, 2006 12:09 PM


Good GOD woman. Ok, that was seriously hot. My brain melted. It's in a pile of goo on the floor.

The description was not really overly graphic (as some I've read and probably even written!) and that makes this an even more enjoyable read.

I really like the Maeve character a lot so I'm hoping the further I read in this story, she doesn't end up dying!

I really need to find a way to bribe you to write me some Simon smut like this! Yes, I really, really do.


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Kaylee Bent Over Jayne's Lap (Part 2 of Fanfic Challenge)
Well, it's like this: There was this Flan B fanfic challenge, I answered it, and a lovely shiny reviewer requested a sequel. Here goes.

Simon Bent Kaylee Over (Flan B fanfic challenge)
At Flan B in California, BigBadJayne wrote four words on a scrap of paper. He gave the words as a fanfic challenge to 5 browncoat writers at the table where we sat. 2 Jaylee and 3 Silee writers were invited to scribble away at a ficlet that followed those words. Leiasky has done hers. Kaynara too. This is my contribution. Hope it works okay for those who read. Let me know what you think and I'll be thankful for whatever you say, approving or not.

The Pleasuring of Kaylee, all in one link
Sex. Jayne and Kaylee. If'n you ain't likin' reading sex involving those two, don't read. If you want to give it a try, please do and comment, if you will. Thanks for looking.

The Way Of Jayne - Part 11
Sexifying, young Jayne and Maeve, the older guild-trained woman who taught him love arts. This part brings him back home and then to her waiting arms for one of their last sessions together. This thing is winding down to an ending, Gentle Readers. Please leave me feedback so's I can know how y'all feel about it. I'm obliged to you all.

A Little Love on the Prairie
Sex, gorramit. Tab A into Slot B. One chapter only, no sequel. You no likee, no read, okies? Kaylee and Simon in a wheat field, against a tree, on the ground. Yeah, I did it, but I'm still faithful to Jayne, I swear!

The Way of Jayne, Part 10
A young Jayne Cobb leaves his lady love sated, asleep in bed as he goes to find his employer dead at Niska's hands. This one's got references to torture and death and a little sexing, though not as much as you'll see in the next part. Don't read this if you can't deal with the badness and blood, okay?



The Way of Jayne, Part 9
This one is more horror than romance, Kids, although there's a bit o' Jayne/Maeve at the sexin' again,'s what they DO, darlin'. Warnings here include torture and death, though not of any characters you care much about. I'm serious, now. If blood and gore and pain and bound-up torture ain't for you, please do not read this part. Thankee sai, and may your journey to the clearing in the path be a good one.

The Way of Jayne, Part 8
NC-17, Jayne and Maeve, his first lover, the morning after first-sex. This ain't for the kiddies, nor for those who think god didn't make words for folks like me to use describing what goes where. No fair saying you were not warned, my darlings. Feedback? HELL, yeah. Give it to me, Baby. You don't even have to leave your name. I'll take you anonymously, and gladly. Thanks for reading.